Considered
by jemisard
Summary: Warren and Remy discuss love and loneliness. Slash themes, not WarrenRemy Dedicated to my AmiChan, Erika and Nadja.


It had always been HIS brooding spot, but now it seemed that someone else had taken over in his absence.

Red eyes flicked up at him, glowing in the twilight. The grounds of the mansion were silent, the only noise to interrupt them the steady thumping of the air beneath his wings.

"Evenin' Angel."

"Gambit."

It was a stilted formality, the best either was willing to offer the other.

"Can I 'elp you?"

"No."

The silence persisted for a bit longer. He was getting uncomfortable, hovering like this.

"Yer want somet'ing?"

"Not really."

He should just find somewhere else. But dammit, this was HIS brooding spot.

"Why yer gettin' annoyed at me, cher?"

"Don't call me cher, LeBeau. I'm not your dearest."

"Non," Gambit conceded, looking out past the white wings. "Yer not."

Curiousity was getting to him, or maybe it was tiredness. He alighted on the roof and sat down, spreading his wings out behind him. They were an arm's length apart, but it was the closest they had been without violence. "So who is?"

"Hm?" Gambit looked sideways, the glow not reaching his skin. It was more of an eerie colouration in the darkness than a true glow. "Who is what, m'siuer?"

"Your cher."

Gambit smiled slightly and dug about in his pockets for his cigarettes. "Gambit loves de world, Angel."

"That's not an answer."

"Non. It ain't."

They both looked out over the grounds. No one was out, the wind was a bit too biting and the light uncomfortably between night and day.

Warren thought. About his dearest. About the one person he would never have.

"What's wrong, Angel?"

He smirked. "Nothing, Gambit."

"Non, Gambit t'ink dere is somet'ing wrong." There was the click of a lighter and the sharp inhalation of breath. The small light disappeared, leaving just those eyes. "Gambit good at keepin' secrets."

"Too good." He glanced sideways. Gambit was watching him with a level gaze and no judgement. He almost did want to tell him. "Are you charming me?"

"Gambit don' need de charm to make people talk. Not when dey want ter."

It was true. He did want to talk. Just not to Gambit. "I don't like you."

"I don' like you neither. Don' see as dat matters." He tilted his head back as he took a deep drag from the cigarette. "But Gambit can keep 'is mouth shut."

Even his third person talking wasn't as annoying today. He must be feeling incredibly depressed or incredibly weary. Maybe he was just growing up. That was a scary thought. "I know."

"So, you gon' tell Gambit?"

"No." He looked at his hands.

"Ah. Mabbe," he paused and leant back on the roof, cigarette hanging from his lips, "mabbe Gambit mus' guess. Yer lonely. Sad. Hurt."

"Everyone in the mansion is that."

"Not everyone, cher." The glowing stick was pulled from his mouth and he blew out a smoke ring. "Some people ain't."

"Some people."

They didn't mention names.

"Why do you care?"

"Gambit cares." He didn't look over, didn't sit up, but his voice was softer. "Gambit knows de pain o' loneliness."

"Can I have a conversation with Remy, not Gambit? Gambit annoys me."

There was a low chuckle and the red eyes mutant sat up again. His fingers flicked the suddenly glowing cigarette butt outwards, it exploded in mid air, like a small firework. "Do you get to be Angel still?"

That was fair really. "No."

"Well den, Warren, I suppose yer can talk ter Remy."

"Who are you lonely for?"

"Ah, dat hardly fair, Warren. I ask yer first."

He hadn't really. He sighed and leant his chin on his arms, pulling up his knees. "I'm just tired of losing everyone. Most of them die. The others leave me."

"Dat's a feelin' I know." One hand tapped an irregular rhythm. "But yer got de X-Men. Dat's somet'ing I don' have."

"Do I? Who do I have? Storm, who hates my guts? Kurt, who forgives everyone and loves only God? Hank, caught up in his loss of Trish or Bobby, who lost Hank in the same moment? Jean? Scott? Logan? Who among the X-Men do I have that you don't?"

Remy smiled slightly, it was a bitter action. "Havin' someone and bein' wit' dem is different."

"Maybe." He didn't want to talk about it anymore. "And you? Who are you lonely for?"

"Yer cher's man."

He didn't know which surprised him more. That Remy was pining for a man, that it was that man, that he knew about the secretive couple or that he apparently knew who Warren himself was pining for. "Excuse me?"

"Oui. Yer excused." The smirk was back.

"Did you just say..."

"Pinin' for de man who is wit' yer love? Oui. No need ter be shocked. At least one ot'er person 'ere loves 'im too."

"I know, and I don't know why." He balled his hands into fists. "I hate him."

"Non. Yer hate dat he have what yer money can't get yer." Remy lay back and looked at the relaxed wings. "Can I touch 'em?"

"Hm?" He looked back. "I... sure, why not." He moved one closer, just the edge where the feathers were largest and coarsest.

Remy's fingers gently touched the feather, stroked them softly. He moved enough to reach higher on the inside, past the flight feathers and to the downy inner lining. "Dey so soft. Once, Gambit find a bird. She hit de car on de street. Gambit take her in 'is 'ands when she dyin'. She was soft and warm."

Warren watched the other mutant's face. He looked blank, distant, his eyes as unreadable as ever.

"Dat why. Dat why I love 'im. 'e understand dat frail'ty. He could 'old me like I 'eld dat bird. 'e were Apocalypse's Death, but 'e soft inside. Well meanin'." He finally turned his eyes to Warren. "Yer a lot like 'im cher. Yer both been Death."

"I was selfish." Warren looked away, not wanting to see anything on that shadowed face. "I sold out. I deserved what I got. I shouldn't have had another chance."

"But, 'e makes yer feel like yer don't mind it as much. Doesn't 'e?"

He nodded slowly. "I didn't feel so guilty when he told me how thankful he was that I was safe."

"Yer know why I'm tellin' yer dese t'ings. Why yer tell me?"

He looked back. "You're nothing like him. He's dependable, straight laced, organised, but he's... he's so naive, Remy. You know that. For all the horror and pain he's gone through, he might have lost his innocence, but he's so painfully naive about the world at times. He has so much hope."

"And dat hope in yer makes yer strong." He looked for another cigarette but gave up after a moment. "Mabbe dat what he find so appealin' about him, hm? Why he won' ever love Gambit."

"Maybe." He looked back. "I guess... you look like him."

Gambit started chuckling. Warren felt put out. "No, really. You're both tall, slender, same hair colour, you could pass for brothers. You even have the same eyes." He looked away and out over the dark garden. "At least, I imagine you do."

"Dat's not funny, Warren." Gambit sounded serious. " Not considerin'."

No. All things considered, it probably wasn't.


End file.
